


Teach me how to play

by littlediable



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlediable/pseuds/littlediable
Summary: the series takes part in the 18th century in Vienna, the fem!reader’s parents hire a cembalo teacher, hoping that they can finally cultivate their daughter. Mister Hiddleston seems like the perfect choice, maybe just maybe he could teach her another thing or two?
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston & Reader
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is from my Tumblr little-diable, don't copy or edit this please

She was a hopeless case. In any and every sense of the words. She was pretty, that is. She’d find a man, of course she would, she was a (y/l/n) after all. But besides her beauty, there wasn’t much she could satisfy a man with. (Y/n) didn’t have any musical talents, could barely draw, the only thing she had a passion for was reading, stumbling into another world, up until her mother would find her, hidden away in a corner, dress crumpled, a hopeless case.

“Reading won’t do you any good.” (Y/n) didn’t dare speak, there was no use in going against her mother, she’d always have to follow her rules, at least till she’d find a man of her own. “Your father will find you a teacher, it’s time you learn how to play the cembalo.” She couldn’t help but sigh, fingers already aching from thinking about stretching them across the keys, another thing she’d miserably fail at, (y/n) was sure of it.

“Get Anne to help you dress, we’re leaving in an hour.” Her mother’s icy voice echoed through the big entrance hall, eyes not meeting (y/n)’s once. “Leaving?” It must have slipped her mind, distracted by the new book she had stolen from her father’s library. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten about the Beethoven concert we have been invited to. Those books you read are bad for you and your memory, child, when will you finally start listening to a word I say?”

The words echoed in her mind as her maid helped her dress. Her navy colored gown perfectly clung to her body, highlighting just the right spots, strands of hair fell into her face, she looked pretty, eyes meeting her reflection in the mirror, trying to force a smile onto her lips. 

“Our carriage is here, we need to leave.” Her mother tugged on (y/n)’s wrist, forcing her out into the chilly December night. She barely listened to a word her parents spoke, gossiping about the people they’d cross paths with, the music they’d get to enjoy. “You’ll get to meet your new cembalo teacher tonight, (y/n).”

She didn’t reply, too entranced by Vienna’s beauty, the pompous buildings they were driving past, the body of people that made their way through the small streets. “A hopeless case.” Her mother’s sigh ripped her out of her trance, she was used to the insults by now, had accepted her mother’s ice cold heart, trying to drown out the words she had used one too many times before.

The all too sweet scent of Viennese wine hung in the air, chatter filled the big concert hall, drowning out (y/n)’s racing thoughts, excited to see Beethoven play, to listen to the new masterpiece he had been working on. She wasn’t a stranger to his music, quite a big fan of the rather harsh and powerful tunes the composer would come up with. 

Her mother wouldn’t let go of her, (y/n) already seemed way too distracted by her surroundings, she’d crash into another guest any moment. Every now and then she’d spot a familiar face, though most of the time she couldn’t remember their names, for once she was somewhat grateful that her mother wouldn’t give her daughter any time to say hello to acquaintances. Her father had left the two women standing, turning towards his friends, lords and earls he’d chat about new investments with. 

“Smile child.” Her mother’s fan made contact with the back of (y/n)’s hand, instantly (y/n) straightened her back, smiling at all the people they walked past. Her thoughts wandered back to the book she had been reading, the twist and turns the author put his readership through. (Y/n)’s eyes met a tall man’s frame, wondering why he was staring at her like that, slowly making his way towards her. 

“(Y/n), may I introduce, Mister Hiddleston, your new teacher.” The man was handsome, tall with bright green eyes, a sight that would burn itself straight into her memory. His dark red costume perfectly matched with his brown curls, he looked like a knight out of her books. 

Just as expected her mother had to give her a slight shove, forcing (y/n) to drop a courtesy. She had managed to gain Tom’s attention from afar, her slightly languorous appearance intrigued him, left him wondering why her parents thought so little of her. “It’s an honour.” He reached for her fingers, lips hovering above the back of her hand, barely touching her skin.

Tingles shot up her spine, knees weak from the unfamiliar contact, (y/n) had managed to avoid getting involved with men that weren’t interested in her, only in the name she carried. But something about him seemed different, maybe she was just blinded by his appearance, the intoxicating smell of his that seemed to embed her, the bright eyes that followed her every move. She didn’t want to hide away from him, wanted to learn more about the handsome stranger.

Ere she could part her lips to stumble upon her words, the composer entered the stage, gaining the crowds’ full attention, forcing her gaze away from Tom. Though he didn’t leave her side, would study her at any given chance, eyes wandering along her side profile, the once trembling hands that were now holding onto a glass of wine.

No matter how oblivious (y/n) appeared to be, she still seemed to notice how he kept on watching her, rather than the mastermind called Beethoven. Candles flickered in the distance, producing just enough light to illuminate the orchestra, the shadows accentuated her features, Tom was sure that he had never seen such a beautiful woman before.

It took everything in her to keep her attention focused on the orchestra, she wanted to turn towards him, to learn more about the man she only knew the name of. But everytime she tried to catch his gaze her mother would squeeze her forearm, cursing her child for appearing bored and uninterested.

“What a wonderful concert that has been,” (Y/n)’s father kept on clapping his hands, smiling at Tom and his wife, barely sparing his daughter a glance, “We’d love to welcome you at our home tomorrow.” He smiled at the family of three, nodding his head, gaze not leaving (y/n)’s once, “It truly would be an honor.” For a glimpse of a moment she was wondering, if he was truly that excited about seeing her again, if he felt just as mesmerized and intrigued.

But of course he wasn’t. Why would he, he could have any woman he desires, he wouldn’t go for a girl like her.

She barely caught any sleep that night, hands laying intertwined on her chest, mind wandering back to Mister Hiddleston and the green eyes that appeared more colourful than anything she had ever seen before. Most likely she’d embarrass herself in front of him, (y/n) could barely read music, hands shaking as she pressed down on the keys.

She wouldn’t impress him, that much she was sure of.

Morning came and went and suddenly all too soon he entered the music room, eyes instantly finding her (y/e/c) ones, he had been thinking of her for the past twelve hours, followed by highly inappropriate thoughts as night fell, not even ashamed about them.

“Don’t expect anything, she only cares about those distracting books.” (Y/n)’s teeth pierced through her lower lip, stopping herself from letting any vile words rumble through her, she wouldn’t hear the end of it otherwise.

Sunlight flooded through the room, big windows allowed the sun rays to dance along the pale walls, the cembalo that was placed in the middle of the room. French doors would lead into the garden, giving a good view onto the pavilion that had been built years ago.

As soon as her mother had left the room, a smile tugged on his lips, stepping closer, repeating the welcoming gesture, lips now fully pressed against the back of her hand. “You look beautiful (y/n).” 

She stuttered a few words, mind hooked onto the way his mouth had felt against her skin, wondering if he’d ever kiss any other spots, if he’d ever explore the skin hidden underneath her dress. Tom placed his hand on the small of her back, thumb running along the soft fabric, the sequins around the embroidered flowers.

She found herself placed next to him on the uncomfortable cembalo stool, gaze following his hands. Almost effortlessly he pressed down on the keys, eliciting the most wonderful tunes she’d ever heard, fully entranced by the music. 

“Give me your hands.” He reached for her hands, placing her fingers on the keys, hands covering hers, guiding (y/n). Quite visibly she gulped, breath hitched in her chest, not used to any kind of bodycontact with a man. “Try it again.” His hands left hers, she instantly missed his warmth, the comforting sensation, longing to feel his skin against hers.

Her fingertips pressed down on the keys, following the tune he had played a few moments ago, eyes not daring to meet his. “That was beautiful (y/n).” Tom seemed quite astonished, wondering why her parents had told him those rather hurtful things about their daughter. 

A loose strand of hair fell out of her bun, just as she tried to stroke it away Tom combed it behind her ear. His hot breath crashed against her burning cheeks, green eyes met hers.

Blood rushed in her ears, body trembling, only now she seemed to realise how close he was sitting, shoulders pressed together, hands meeting once again. Her mind wandered back to all those books she had read, wondering if she’d ever get to feel his lips on hers, kissing her like all those men would kiss their women, a passionate act of affection that would mostly take place behind closed doors.

Tom got lost in her eyes, barely breathing, fully admiring her, a déjà-vu that reminded him of the day before, he had always been one to marvel at art, appreciating true beauty. Unnoticed by the two of them the sound of heels clicking against the wooden floor echoed through the hallways, just as Tom seemed to move even closer the double doors crashed open, ripping the both of them out of their bubble.

He’d turn up at their door every Monday afternoon, holding onto new music sheets, wearing a bright smile on his lips, longing to see her. 

“Again.” Tom’s raspy voice left her shuddering, repeating the tune she had played for at least ten times by now. She was making progress, faster than he had anticipated, fully trusting (y/n) and her talent. He liked being around her, felt calmer than he had ever felt before. Tom would find himself admiring her, not truly listening to the tunes she played, how much he’d give to call her his.

“I need a break.” A dramatic sigh spilled from her lips, eyes finding his, smiling at the man she slowly but surely was falling for. Tom studied her for a moment, hand reaching for hers, tugging (y/n) out into the garden.

“This reminds me of my home.” His green eyes were focused on the pavilion, old memories overcame him, reminding him of his time back in England. “Tell me about your family.” Curious eyes followed his every move, fully entranced by the tall man, hands tingling from the way he was holding onto her.

“I have two younger sisters, both are to be wed fairly soon, just like my brothers. My father used to build cembali, just like the one your parents own.” He pulled her through the grass, eyes set on the pavilion, “Do you miss your family?” It took him a few moments to reply, he didn’t want to scare her off, he loved being around her, it felt like he had finally found the one thing he was longing for. “I do, I think about them a lot. But I love Vienna, I don’t think I’ll ever leave again.”

Thunder roared in the sky, dark clouds began to drop their water, pouring down onto the city. “Come on.” They ran through the meadow, rain began to soak through their clothes, she couldn’t help but giggle, following Tom towards their hideout. They took the steps up to the small pavilion, fingers still intertwined, basking in each other’s warmth. 

“Are you alright?” He shrugged off his jacket, eyes wandering up and down her frame, hands letting go of hers, cupping her cold cheeks, scared that she could get sick from the rain.

Her words got stuck in her throat, struggling to breathe, Tom had his front pressed against hers, hearts beating in sync. The white linen shirt he was wearing exposed a bit of his chest, skin she couldn’t help but dream about, she felt foolish, thinking of a man like that, he probably didn’t care about her, would only think of her as a child. 

Almost as if Tom was scared to touch her, he slowly ran his thumb along her trembling lower lip, body freezing, desperate for some source of heat.

Tom’s lips crashed against hers, lips molding against one another, as if they truly belonged together. “I-, I’m sorry.” He pulled away from her, hands still placed on her cheeks, wondering if he had gone too far, crossing a line he’d never be able to retreat back to. Wordlessly she shifted her weight onto her toes, kissing him once again, tongues exploring the new territory. Short breaths spilled from her lips, followed by a few ungodly sounds that rumbled through them.

“I-” realisation dawned upon her, hands letting go of him, darting out into the rain, desperate to get some distance between them. What had she done? Kissing her teacher, a man she shouldn’t think about in that way, she had managed to fully embarrass herself. 

How will she ever be able to speak to him again?


	2. Chapter 2

“I can’t do it.” Her forehead fell against the music stand, eyes fluttering close, (y/n) felt exhausted, tired from having to repeat the piece, fingers not able to memorize the sequence. 

“One more time.” Tom didn’t leave any room to argue, he wore a stern expression, his patience was wearing thin, an uncomfortable tension lingered in the room. They hadn’t spoken about the kiss, she felt too ashamed, confused, couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

She had cried for what felt like an eternity, hidden away in her chambers, tears soaking through the pillows. He’d never love a girl like her, would need a strong woman by his side, not some talentless, dull girl. Her mother’s words had burned themselves into her mind, robbing her of any strength and confidence she had ever felt.

“(Y/n).” He murmured her name, desperate to catch her gaze, wondering why she was hiding away from him, wondering if she truly didn’t like him. “Look at me.” She kept her eyes focused on the keys, heart about to jump out of her chest, too nervous to give in. 

“Please.” By now he was only whispering the words, hand reaching for hers, carefully stroking along her aching knuckles. “I’m sorry.” The apology bubbled out of her, tears welled up in her eyes, body calling out to him, she had missed his touch, had missed the feeling of his warmth radiating off him.

Wordlessly he pulled her off the chair, into his chest, hands placed on her waist, “There’s nothing you need to apologize for.” A few tears left traces down her cheeks, “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I am sorry.” She lifted her head off his chest, hand cupping his cheek, “I liked the kiss Tom.” He frowned, wondering what was going on. 

“I felt ashamed, I know you’d never like a girl like me.” The words knocked all air out of his lungs, hands tightening their grip, piercing eyes burning into hers. “A girl like you?” He choked, heart breaking as he seemed to realize why she had run in the first place, influenced by her parents vile words, the insults she had to listen to day in, day out. “You know what I mean.” Her gaze wandered back down his chest, too embarrassed to look at the man she fell for, her teacher.

He couldn’t find the right words to express his feelings, aching to take all her pain away, to protect her from all evil this world could offer. His lips ghosted over hers, eyelids fluttering close, welcoming her warmth, the taste of the lips he had been dreaming about. 

Their hands found each other, fingers interlaced, pressed against their chests, keeping them close. “I would do anything to be with a girl like you (y/n).” With one last peck he let go of her, pointing towards the cembalo, “One more time.”

The following week he had entered the room with a shy smile on his lips, hands holding onto a stack of papers, “Sit down over there, please.” Tom pointed towards the feuilleton in the middle of the room, sinking down on the cembalo stool. “What-” he interrupted her with the raise of his hand, green eyes focused on the sheets, “Just listen.”

A soft though unfamiliar tune engulfed her, it filled the room, a comforting warmth crawled up her spine, left her smiling as she indulged in the music. His hands ran along the keys, faster than she’d ever be able to, at some point he closed his eyes, gave her a moment to properly take in his frame, dressed in a dark blue costume, the white dress shirt clung to his body, almost teasingly he had left a few buttons open.

“That was wonderful Tom.” She clapped her hands, glad that her parents were out for the day, giving her some privacy to forget about the etiquette she’d have to follow. “I-,” he took a deep breath, “I composed it for you.” No words left her, overwhelmed by his gesture, wondering if any other man would do such a thing for the woman he adored. She rose from her chair, made her way towards him, hands pulling him in for a kiss, displaying the love she felt for Tom.

The kiss was something else, more powerful, more passionate than any other kiss they had shared before. His hands ran along her back, pushing her further against him, fingers toying with the lacing of her corset. 

“Tom.” Sensually she breathed out his name, pupils wide and dilated, lust blown, urged on by an unfamiliar sensation. Her lower body tingled, places she didn’t dare touch throbbed for him, she wasn’t quite sure what was happening to her, but she didn’t want it to stop, ever.

His lips kissed down her throat, along her collarbones, gaze dropping down to her cleavage. He had to compose himself, otherwise he’d rip her gown off her frame, would take her right there and then. 

“Touch me, please.” He couldn’t say no, his needs got the best of him, fingers slowly unlacing her corset, dress falling down to the floor. Instantly she tried to cover her naked chest, eyes fluttering close, not sure how to act in a situation like this.

“Don’t hide away from me.” Soft fingertips danced up her naked spine, left her shuddering, arms slowly falling to her sides. “You’re beautiful.” He had never seen such beauty, couldn’t stop his hands from touching her breasts, squeezing the hardening nubs. 

Moans rumbled through her, sounds he could listen to for nights and days, would prefer them over any kind of music. They took a few steps back, he pushed her against the wall, lips connected to her throat, fingers running along the outlines of her white drawers.

She felt overwhelmed, had never felt this longing for a man, she prayed that Tom would never stop touching her. “Do you trust me?” His voice sounded unfamiliar, raspy, dripping with something that she had never heard before. “Of course I do.” Without a doubt, (y/n) would trust him with her life, anything for the man she loved with all her heart.

One hand of his pushed her drawers down, by now she was completely naked, exposed to his green eyes, though she felt no shame, confident in the way he stared at her, admiring every inch of her skin. He covered her sex with his hand, fingers rubbing spots that coaxed moans out of her, filling her with a tingling sensation she had never felt before. “Oh,” (y/n) furrowed her eyebrows, lips slightly swollen, skin burning in anticipation, wondering where he was going with this.

He had to feel her, hands momentarily letting go of her trembling frame, unbuttoning his satin trousers, length throbbing and leaking, ready to be buried inside of her. Her gaze wandered down to his member, gasping at the size of him. Tom was breaking every social codex he was supposed to follow, robbing a girl’s purity with an insatiable hunger he felt for her. 

But he didn’t doubt his motives, he’d marry the girl he was about to break in, would tie her to him, if she’d take him that is.

“You need to breathe.” He picked her up, back pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around his middle. His length brushed through her wet folds, effortlessly slipping into her. A pained cry left her, eyes squeezed shut, hands tightly holding onto his neck. “Breathe.” He repeated himself, gave (y/n) a few moments to compose herself, slowly pulling out of her and finding his way back inside.

It didn’t take long for her to feel that indescribable tingling sensation once again, pain long forgotten, walls gripping his length with every thrust of his. “Perfect, absolutely perfect.” Tom mumbled against her throat, lips kissing every possible spot, he didn’t want to miss anything.

“I-Tom.” (Y/n) moaned his name, almost embarrassed by the tone of her voice, husky, sin-fuller than any word she had ever spoken. He quickened his pace, skin slapping against hers, set on providing her with as much pleasure as possible. Her breath hitched in her chest, white noises rang in her ears, walls fluttering, she wasn’t sure what was happening, but she wanted to feel it again, instantly addicted.

Tom followed shortly after, pulling out of her before he could paint her walls white. “I love you.” His confession left her breathless, lips connected to his, hands not wanting to let go of him. “I love you too.”

The memory of that very day would repeat itself numerous times, would keep her distracted, she’d mess up her practice, not able to concentrate. Her legs were still aching, middle pulsing from the tight grip he did have on her. Tiredly she began to move her fingers across the keys, trying to remember how effortlessly he had played the tune. She didn’t hear her mother entering the room, didn’t have any chance to prepare herself for the wrath she’d have to face in a moment.

Tom should have noticed the fire burning in her mother’s eyes, how she fisted the fabric of her gown, layers of tulle crunched underneath her grip. “It sounds awful, you need to work harder, we should find another teacher for you.” Her eyes burned right through Tom, a disgusted expression tugged on her features.

Silence engulfed them, tears ran down (y/n)’s cheeks, almost automatically she tumbled into another clashing wave of sadness, tired of her mother’s behavior, the loud words she’d scream at her. 

“If you may allow me to step in, I don’t see any reason for you to say such vile words to (y/n). She has talent, it took me years to play this good.” Her mother’s cheeks were flushed in anger, lips parted, she hadn’t expected him to defend (y/n), outraged that he’d dare to talk back. “Leave my house.”

(Y/n)’s head snapped up, eyes finding his pained ones, she had to pierce her nails into her gown, keeping herself from reaching for Tom, he couldn’t leave, she needed him. “Please.” Her shaky voice ripped his heart apart, he didn’t move, eyes not letting go of hers, jaw clenched, he had never loved a woman like he loved her. 

“I won’t repeat myself.” Wordlessly Tom reached for his music sheets, hand brushing against hers, how much he wanted to pull her with him, to save her from her family, but he couldn’t. He had to protect his reputation, had to protect hers, at any cost.

She watched him leave with glassy, red eyes, heart clenching with every step he took. “Stop your crying.” Her mother turned her back on (y/n), left the crying girl on her own. The sun was just about to go down, leaving her to wail in the cold room. Darkness wrapped itself around her like a veil, nestling in her heart as it kept its hands on her, robbing her of all joy she had felt in the past weeks. 

She was alone. Once again.


End file.
